


DEFCON Achoo!

by twisted_dendrites



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anxiety, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Canon, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisted_dendrites/pseuds/twisted_dendrites
Summary: Two years after the Fourth Shinobi War, Gaara goes to visit his boyfriend. Naruto has a cold, so Gaara takes care of him.
Relationships: Gaara/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 6
Kudos: 122





	DEFCON Achoo!

Gaara always had trouble deciding which clothes to wear on the journeys from Suna to Konoha. As he made his way out of the desert, the temperature was sure to mellow out to something mild. However, he had made the trip enough times to know that accounting for only the heat or the cold wasn’t enough. The trick seemed to lie in the humidity between the regions. The Sand Village was predictably dry as a bone, whereas Konoha could range from sweltering and swampy to crisp and cool.

When packing, Gaara always hemmed and hawed on what he might need. ‘Light is right,’ was the old mantra that every genin learned before their fist mission, and the saying had haunted him ever since. If he overpacked, it would slow his pace, which was undesirable. If he packed too little, he ran the risk of getting caught unprepared in some kind of inclement weather—which also had the possibility of slowing him down, depending on what it was. He'd pack and repack, check the weather forecast, curse it, then begin the cycle again. It was only when one of his siblings came to him and told him to get a move on that he'd reluctantly shove the items he'd picked out so far into a knapsack and get going.

For this particular trip, he had only repacked once. He was either beginning to familiarize himself with the climate of Fire Country, or his siblings were getting more impatient with him. Judging by how neither Temari nor Kankuro were ever thrilled about picking up the Kazekage’s responsibilities when he was gone, Gaara assumed it was the former.

This time, his travel had been surprisingly pleasant. No surprise rainstorms, no strong winds. The sun shone encouragingly in the sky like it was patting him on the shoulder as he went along. By the time he drew closer to Konoha, the trees grew thicker and taller, each bough bursting with vibrant green leaves that fanned out in welcome. The gentle breeze kissed his face as he made it to the gates at the front of the village.

He was ahead of schedule, which was usually the case when he didn’t run across any environmental setbacks. Every time he stopped to rest along the way, each cell in his body vibrated with antsy impatience. He’d much rather rest in Naruto’s bed than in a tree or on the forest floor.

The ninja attending the guard station at the gate lightly teased Gaara as he signed into the village under the purpose of tourism. It wasn’t that he and Naruto were obvious about their relationship, but Gaara seemed to encounter the same rotation of ninja from the jounin standby station whenever he came through the Leaf Village gates. Considering that it wasn’t necessary for the Kazekage to take several vacations to Konoha each year, it wasn’t that difficult to put two and two together. Especially when the destination address that Gaara reported on the customs form was Naruto’s apartment.

“Konoha sure is beautiful this time of year, isn’t it, Izumo?”

“Judging by the frequency that Kazekage-sama visits our village, I’m assuming he finds it beautiful most times of the year.”

“ _I’m_ _assuming_ it’s not only the village that he finds beautiful.”

“Kotetsu!”

Gaara didn’t mind the jokes, in fact, he felt a strange sense of pride whenever someone hinted about his situation with Konoha’s hero. If it were practical, he would want everyone to know that Naruto was his as much as he was Naruto’s. For now though, he could settle for assumptions that were mostly correct.

He finished the paperwork quickly and then finally was on his way to Naruto’s door. Strangely, it was unlocked, which he found out after his knocking returned no answer. He could feel the spirals of Naruto’s chakra inside the apartment, and this made Gaara concerned about the lack of response. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, trying to keep himself from jumping to conclusions.

_Did Naruto’s chakra feel weaker than usual, or was it muted because of the distance between them? Maybe he was just sleeping. Or meditating. Or out cold because he was a high profile figure who had been targeted by an insurgent rogue ninja group?_

The messy state of Naruto’s apartment could mean anything. Yes, it did look like an apartment that had been broken into and torn apart in a desperate search for valuables, but Gaara had to admit that it was usually in a similar state of disarray. He closed the door behind him, locking it, and walked across the floor to pursue the pulse of Naruto’s chakra.

Apprehension rippled across his skin, and he noticed the hairs on his arms were standing on end as he reached for the doorknob to Naruto’s bedroom. He shifted the gourd on his back like he was preparing for a fight. The war might have ended years ago, but his instincts would likely never fade. He could taste blood on his tongue that wasn’t actually there as he cautiously pushed open the door.

Naruto was in bed, rolled to one side, his back to Gaara. His chest swelled and sank like the calm ebb and flow of ocean waves. He appeared to be sleeping, though this fact did not entirely ease Gaara’s worries. It was too early for the hyperactive ninja to be this soundly asleep already.

As Gaara swept his eyes around the room, he finally was able to put together the whole picture. Aside from the usual comfortable mess, there was a small mountain range of used tissues beside Naruto’s bed. More tissues spread out across his bed and nightstand like snow caps. The shades were drawn, casting dark wintery shadows across the blankets. Gaara had never been trained in medical ninjutsu, but he could sense sickness in the poorly ventilated bedroom.

He leaned over the rumpled twist of blankets and sheets that were seemingly wrapped around Naruto in some kind of mobius strip. With caution not to startle the sleeping ninja, Gaara let his hand search through the folds of fabric for a shoulder or an arm. He pulsed his own chakra, ever so gently, in hopes of making his presence gradually known.

When his fingers finally traced skin, he heard a groan, and then the pile of bedding heaved and fell away to reveal a very sleepy Naruto.

“Ah, Gaara,” he rasped, “I thought you’d be here soon so I left the door unlocked...”

It was Gaara’s first instinct to scold his lover for being so careless about his own safety, but the gray tone of his skin and the crackling in Naruto’s voice took precedence. Gaara left his hand drift to Naruto’s forehead, out of principal, because he didn’t really know the level of warmth that would indicate a fever.

At the contact, Naruto took several seconds to peel his eyes open. Usually sparkling bright and blue, today his gaze was dull as dirty dishwater. With some effort, he managed to pull his mouth into a sort of half smile. He reached up and stole Gaara’s hand away from his forehead, drawing it towards his lips so that he could kiss each fingertip. Once satisfied, his grin grew even wider, and he meshed their fingers together, the lump of their entangled hands falling to his chest.

Even like this, Naruto still managed to take his breath away.

“How long has it been? Have you seen a doctor?” Gaara babbled, trying to ignore the feverish feeling spreading through his own body.

Two main storms of emotions clashed together inside his head, the intensity of their mix giving an even sharper edge to his anxiety. After the war, he noticed he was more sensitive to Naruto’s health and safety. Feeling his lifeless body cradled in his sand and seeing Sakura toil to pump his heart and breathe air through his lungs during the fight with Madara had left him with more than a few nightmares or superstitions. Any time Naruto went on a mission, he felt the thorny throb of dread clamp down on his lungs. Hearing news that Naruto was injured plucked him right out of what he was doing and bound him to Naruto’s side until he knew _for sure_ that everything would be okay. And if he saw any bruise, cut, burn, or other laceration, it felt like he’d fallen from a great height into a thick crushing liquid that was so cold it burned his skin.

Now Naruto was clearly ill, and Gaara’s heart rate was ramping up in the familiar way that used to signal that Shukaku was about to take control.

Rational thoughts dissolved into guilt. The happiness he’d had to see Naruto morphed into fear of losing him. _What if this was serious? How could he let this happen? Why hadn’t he taken care of him well enough?_

Naruto seemed to sense the change in Gaara’s chakra, and he squeezed his hand to reassure him. Gaara could only notice the lack of strength in Naruto’s grip.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just a cold, no big deal.”

Gaara tried to accept the words as truth, but panic had already seized him by the heartstrings. _Sure, maybe it was nothing, but how could he leave it up to chance? He had to_ know _._ He let go of Naruto’s hand despite how unnatural it felt to pull away.

“I’ll get Sakura-san. She’ll know what to do,” Gaara declared. In his mind, he was already mapping the fastest routes to the Konoha hospital.

“You really don’t have to—”

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Gaara dropped a quick kiss on Naruto’s forehead. His mind was racing, already planning six steps ahead. He wasn’t above using his Kazekage status to pull Sakura out of surgery if need be.

~~

All the way to the hospital, Gaara fought with himself. _Was_ _he overreacting?_ _Was_ _Naruto going to chase him down and tell him that he doesn’t need to bother Sakura? If Naruto_ didn’t _chase him down,_ _was_ _that an indication of how sick he really_ _was_ _?_

He was unable to find any satisfying answers to his questions by the time he passed through the front door. He stomped to the front desk, each footstep heavy with frustration. The employee behind the desk shrunk into his seat as Gaara approached. When he nervously asked Gaara the name of the patient he was here to visit, they both heard the sand in Gaara’s gourd hiss like meat on a frying pan.

“I am here to see Haruno-sensei. It’s urgent.”

The man’s fingers trembled over the intercom. “D-do you have an appointment?”

Gaara’s blood boiled at the waste of time, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek and suck in a deep breath in order to keep from snapping at the worker. He could feel that his control over his thoughts had started to slip, and his memory was gracing him with images of blood stained sand. He could almost taste the iron in his mouth as his muscles remembered the hand seals to Sand Tomb, how he had felt it through his veins and through each chakra point as he squeezed the life out of someone.

As a result, he ended up saying nothing, but that didn’t wipe the murderous glare from his face.

While Gaara tried to pull himself into a clearer state of mind, a few nurses escorted by Shizune passed by the reception desk. Shizune noticed Gaara and thankfully came to his aid.

“Kazekage-sama!” she greeted.

The staff member at the desk visibly paled as he made the connection. He jabbed his finger on the intercom and immediately paged Sakura. It wasn’t long before she appeared behind the desk, in fact, there hadn’t been enough time for Gaara to get himself back under control.

“Gaara-san?” she asked, stepping forward towards him, “What’s wrong? I can get you to an examination room right away.”

Of course she thought it was him who was having the problem. His body had entered fight mode. His chakra patterns were chaotic, spiraling out from him in disjointed scribbles at an alarmingly high energy level. His pulse rate was through the roof and his breathing was shallow. He felt like it was a million degrees standing here in the hospital lobby, and he wouldn’t e surprised if there was sweat forming along his brow. The sand in his gourd was vibrating so much that it sounded like a small rainstorm was behind him. If he looked down, he would have also noticed that his hands were shaking.

“No,” he managed, “It’s Naruto. He’s sick.”

The look of mild concern on Sakura’s face did not change, even as Gaara corrected her. But though she was able to keep her expression professional, Gaara sensed a shift in her aura. She turned to the person at the desk.

“Call the stand-by doctor. I’ll be out of office for a bit.”

She and Gaara only had to wait a few minutes for Sakura’s backup to arrive, and then they were on their way to Naruto’s apartment.

Sakura asked about Naruto’s symptoms, and Gaara explained what little he knew. Something about relaying the information to her settled his nerves a bit. Despite rushing to and from the hospital, he was breathing more evenly as Sakura opened the door to Naruto’s apartment.

Naruto was still in bed and had apparently fallen asleep again.

Sakura woke him and began the examination, her demeanor calm. Naruto was embarrassed, and tried to shoo her away, but she had no patience for him like she did for Gaara.

“I already came all the way over here and had to inconvenience the stand-by doctor! Quit moving and stop wasting my time!”

Naruto was subdued after that and allowed Sakura to complete her diagnoses.

“It’s just the common cold,” she said finally, her words more directed at Gaara than Naruto.

“See? I told ya,” Naruto added, though his words lacked their usual zeal. He slouched against his pillow and closed his eyes.

Gaara felt relief pour through his body, only interrupted by a small amount of chagrin. So maybe he had overreacted after all, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He wasn’t going to take any chances with Naruto.

“The most important things for recovery are rest and fluids. Unfortunately, that’s about it,” Sakura recited. She turned to Gaara and her expression softened to the point where he felt a pit forming deep in his gut. “Why don’t we make some tea?”

Confused, Gaara followed her into Naruto’s kitchen. If Naruto even had any tea in his cupboards, she certainly didn’t need his help to brew it. The last look she’d given him seemed almost like one of pity, which instinctively set him on the fringe of annoyance but secondarily made him confused and almost...guilty?

He stood uncertainly by Naruto’s kitchen table while she rummaged through the cupboards and managed to find a half-empty box of green tea bags. As she pulled back the cardboard lid, a cockroach scuttled out and fell to the floor, quickly righting itself and scurrying into a gap between the counters. Sakura let out a short shriek and dropped the box of tea. Then she closed her eyes and stood still for a second, seemingly gathering herself.

“Alright, no tea then.”

She did not attempt to pick up the box of tea or the few packaged tea bags that had spilled out, and instead she seated herself at the table. Her eyes traced across the various garbage littered on its surface, and she visibly cringed.

“You know, if he weren’t sick, I’d be making him clean up all this shit,” she muttered, scooting her seat a good few inches away from the overflowing table.

Gaara trailed his fingers along the edge of the table in order to occupy his hands as he resisted picking up the tea bags on the floor.

“It’s alright, I’ll straighten everything up later.”

Sakura looked at him, again in that same pitying way as before. The confused guilty feeling in his stomach grew, though he couldn’t place the reason behind it. He felt like asking her what was wrong, but he wasn’t sure if they were at that level of friendship yet.

“I’m sure there’s nothing for Naruto to be tidying up when he goes to visit you in Suna, not that he would tidy anything if there were,” Sakura grumbled, “Do you always clean up after him when you’re in Konoha? That bastard doesn’t deserve you.”

Gaara’s fingers curled back from the table into his palm, forming a fist, automatically defensive. “It’s not always this messy. It’s never pristine, but...”

Sakura interrupted him with a loud exhale, which irked him a bit. He fought back the pinpricks of irritation in his stomach and stared at her, searching her expression for something he could understand.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way,” she said. A small smile formed on her face, “Ah, I get caught up in picking on him like an older sister would.”

Her eyes landed on his fist, and her smile diminished a little. “Anyway,” she sighed, “It’s nice to see you. Are you...doing alright?”

The weird lump of emotion in his stomach throbbed. He had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t just asking about his physical health, and suddenly the _concern_ — _not pity_ —in her eyes and the ball of guilt that he couldn’t digest began to make sense.

He sat down across from her at the table, though he kept his gaze on the grain of the wood. Perhaps they _were_ at that level of friendship, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to open up.

“I worry about him,” he admitted, choosing each word carefully, “Sometimes, too much.”

Though he wasn’t looking at her, he could see her nodding from his peripherals. “I know. It’s difficult. After the war...after everything that happened...Sometimes it’s hard to feel like things are okay. That they’ll stay okay.”

Gaara didn’t respond, but he knew exactly what she meant. How couldn’t he? How couldn’t anyone? He’d given speeches to crowds full of thousand yards stares. He’d heard the screams of his brother as he woke up from a nap, disoriented and panicked, his brain lagging to adjust between nightmare and reality. He’d watched his sister count and recount the folds of her fan, even as kunai grazed her cheek, because she she was locked in place until she counted exactly right. He noticed the emptiness in the streets, the lack of key shinobi at meetings, the gauze and the bandages, the uptick in traffic near the cemetery.

He’d felt the cold terror pacing behind him like a shadow, day after day, waiting for something slightly out of place to distract his attention just enough so that it could slip into the forefront of his mind, paralyzing him with what-ifs and could-haves.

Every shinobi that lived through the war knew it all too well.

“Recently, Yamanaka Ino and I implemented a new mental health clinic at the Konoha Hospital. At first it was primarily geared towards youths, but then we realized how much assistance the pre-existing adult mental health program needed, and so now we’re in the process of redesigning that as well.”

“Suna...would benefit from a similar initiative,” Gaara admitted.

Sakura hummed in agreement, but didn’t respond. Whether she was waiting for him to say more, or simply letting the conversation lapse into a natural silence, Gaara didn’t know.

After a few beats, and some curious skittering sounds from behind the cabinets, Sakura sighed and stood up.

“Well, I better get back to the hospital.” She stretched her arms over her head and rolled her shoulders back, effectively bracing herself to return to work.

Gaara stood up too, finally forcing himself to make eye contact with her again. She was smiling at him.

“Thanks for coming here and checking up on Naruto,” Gaara said. He had wanted to apologize for wasting her time, but something in her expression told him that she didn’t mind. The thought made him feel marginally better about his overreaction.

“It’s no problem,” she assured him, and she placed her hand on his shoulder as if to further solidify her point, “I’ll always be there for him. You too.”

With two words, Sakura erased the remaining itch of anxiety that had been simmering under his skin. In its place, warmth rose to the surface. The bond of friendship was something that Gaara would never truly get over. Establishing connections with others had never come easily to him, and realizing that he had unknowingly built this type of camaraderie with someone felt like an unexpected gift.

He followed her to the door, light on his feet and feeling the tiniest bud of pride sprouting in his chest.

“You two just take it easy. I can drop by tomorrow morning and bring some food pills that should help boost the immune system! I’m afraid it isn’t a cure, and probably won’t help Naruto get better any faster, but it can’t hurt. And they might prevent you from catching his cold.”

Gaara wasn’t too concerned about getting sick, but he appreciated the offer nonetheless. He thanked her just before she left, and then he eagerly made his way back to Naruto’s bed. To his surprise, the jinchuuriki was still awake.

“C’mere.”

Gaara settled himself into the outstretched arms and finally allowed himself to rest.

~~

“Your hair is getting long,” Gaara noted. He came up behind where Naruto was sitting and combed his fingers through his hair. Since the war, Naruto had been keeping it in a shorter style, but now it was almost back to its former length.

Naruto paused from devouring his second serving of rice porridge. “Ah, yeah. I’ve been meaning to cut it, but then I had a mission, and then I got sick...”

He stretched his arms out in front of him, across the mostly clean kitchen table that he’d insisted on helping Gaara clear off earlier. The joints in his elbows popped, and then he leaned back so that his head was fully resting in Gaara’s palm. He flashed Gaara a lopsided grin, and Gaara was compelled to lean forward and kiss him on the forehead.

Naruto’s grin widened. “Careful, you might get sick too,” he teased.

Gaara rolled his eyes and returned to the sink, where he had been washing dishes. To be safe, he turned the tap a little hotter and added extra soap. He was fully expecting to catch Naruto’s cold, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take the necessary precautions.

“I can cut it for you when you’re done,” Gaara offered, returning to the previous topic of conversation.

“That’d be great!” Naruto exclaimed, clearly talking with his mouth full.

Gaara heard the legs of Naruto’s chair scraping against the floor, and then suddenly Naruto’s arms were around his waist. Gaara’s scalp tingled as Naruto pressed his lips close to his ear.

“What would I do without you?”

Gaara nearly dropped the ladle he had been scrubbing. Face on fire, he sank into the embrace just the tiniest bit. “I thought you were worried about me getting sick,” he huffed, “Finish your okayu so I can get all the dishes done.”

“I did!” Naruto persisted.

Gaara was very seriously considering abandoning the dishes when Naruto suddenly pulled away and sneezed. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Naruto make a beeline for his room to grab some tissues.

“Ughhhhhhh…” He heard Naruto groaning over the splash of water in the sink., and he decided that he had made the right choice to continue with the chore.

About five minutes after Gaara had finished cleaning up, he heard knocking at the front door. Naruto still hadn’t come out of his room, so Gaara made his way towards the sound. As promised, Sakura stood there with her delivery.

The kunoichi shoved the basket full of food pills, more than he and Naruto could conceivably eat in the next two weeks, into his arms. Gaara barely had time to thank her before she was dashing off, on her way to work.

Gaara set the basket down on the kitchen table and plucked two balls from the neat stack. He walked into Naruto’s room just as the Leaf shinobi was finishing up changing the wrapping on his right arm.

Once, a few months after the transplant when Tsunade had officially given Naruto the okay to resume missions again, Gaara had asked Naruto why he still kept the arm bandaged up. Naruto had responded with a joke, something about needing to keep the cells covered or else they might start sprouting saplings. This had led the two into a discussion on whether or not Naruto would now be able to use wood-style jutsu, and it wasn’t until after they had come to the conclusion of “maybe” that Gaara remembered that his initial question was still unanswered.

He never asked after that. He had his suspicions, and he didn’t see a point in bringing them up. At first, he had been concerned that maybe Naruto’s new arm was more sensitive than the rest of his skin, and it _was_ _sensitive_ , as Gaara found out later, but not significantly more in comparison with any other parts of Naruto. If anything, Gaara assumed it was a reminder of the war that Naruto didn’t need on a daily basis.

It wasn’t often that Gaara saw Naruto without his arm in bandages. He only seemed to take them off when bathing or changing them, he went so far as to sleep with his arm still wrapped up. But every time Gaara saw the pure white flesh, he couldn’t help but wonder why Naruto kept it covered.

It made him think about his own ‘Love’ tattoo-scar. If he’d marked himself in a place where he had to see it all the time, would he have chosen to keep it hidden too?

Again today, he kept his curiosity to himself. If Naruto ever wanted to talk about it, he undoubtedly would bring it up without prompt.

Gaara handed him one of the food pills as soon as he was done taping up the gauze, and despite having just eaten breakfast, Naruto popped the whole thing into his mouth. Gaara took a bite from his and nearly spit the piece back on the floor. The taste was sharp and sour and unpleasant. He covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to gag, and he heard Naruto laughing.

His eyes watered and he tried not to breathe because that only made the taste more intense. Naruto provided him with several tissues which he used to spit out the inedible lump and wipe his mouth. Even with the food pill gone, the taste continued to fester, and Gaara retreated to the bathroom where he could rise his mouth, and when that didn’t help, brush his teeth.

Naruto joined him just as Gaara had uncapped some mouthwash. He couldn’t understand how Naruto hadn’t reacted to the foul taste of the food pill, and for a horrifying moment, he wondered if maybe there had been some mistake and he’d accidentally eaten something that _wasn’t_ meant for human consumption.

“I forgot you never tried Sakura’s food pills,” Naruto said. He was trying to fight a smile and very obviously failing. “I bet you won’t believe me, but they used to be _so_ much worse. She’s really refined her recipe over the years!”

Gaara spit into the sink and whirled to look at Naruto. Though amused, the Leaf ninja was definitely serious, and Gaara couldn’t stop his eyes from widening or his mouth from hanging open.

“How?” he asked, his brain unable to imagine something that tasted worse. “I wouldn’t give those to my worst enemy.”

Naruto sat down on the stool next to his bathtub. “The first time I tried one of Sakura’s food pills, I didn’t eat for three days after. I told her it was so I could put all my focus into developing Rasenshuriken, but really, my stomach just couldn’t bear it.”

A full-body shudder rolled through Gaara.

“You get used to ‘em,” Naruto insisted.

Gaara thought about the full basket sitting on Naruto’s counter, and his stomach did a nauseating flip.

Naruto sneezed again, and Gaara was more than happy to abandon that line of thought.

“Anyway, let’s cut your hair.”

After some rummaging through various drawers and cabinets, and a bit of help from Naruto, Gaara was able to find the tools he needed. He placed a towel on the counter by the sink, and laid out all of the items in the order he expected to use them. Naruto picked up the stool and scooted closer as Gaara plugged in the clippers and looked through the different guards that Naruto had. At one time, he probably had all of the guard sizes, but Gaara could not find the #3 or the #7 guard.

He attached the #4 guard and brought it over to Naruto. “This length okay?”

Naruto gave him a thumbs up. “I was using the three-guard for a while, but then it went missing. Dunno what happened to it!”

The explanation was nothing out of the ordinary. The Leaf shinobi was someone who could lose an item that he was holding in his hand. Sometimes the disappearance of objects around him was so implausible, that Gaara had heard Kakashi and Sakura seriously considering if space-time jutsu was involved. That Naruto was ever prepared for anything at all was a daily miracle.

Gaara put the clippers back on the towel. He turned back towards Naruto and reached down to pinch the hem of his shirt. Naruto lifted his arms, and Gaara pulled the shirt over his head. When it was off, he folded it and placed it on the towel so that it wouldn’t get covered in hair. Then, he picked up the clippers and turned back to the jinchuuriki.

Gaara was tempted to run his hand across the bare shoulders, down his back. He settled for allowing his eyes to trail over the contours of exposed skin. Naruto’s muscles were lean and well defined, results of a strict training regimen that had been routine for years. Every slight shift the shinobi made was visible through his skin.

Scars pulled some areas taught, while others were just patches of roughness or discoloration. Gaara could name the instances that had caused most of them; a large straight swath under the left side of his ribcage had been from falling out of a tree, the lopsided oval near the base of his neck from the sting of a fire-style jutsu, the jagged lines over his shoulder the result of a particularly aggressive summon.

Other marks were of unknown origin to him, but he knew which ones to avoid when Naruto was pressed up against him at night. A few were those that he knew to linger on, to rub with just the right amount of pressure that made Naruto shiver and gasp. Still some had no effect at all, only serving as features of his highly conditioned body. There was never enough time to appreciate all of it, but Gaara wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life trying.

This body had saved his life. This body had saved the _world_.

He sunk the fingers of his left hand through Naruto’s hair, planting them near his temple to keep his head steady. He flicked the switch on the clippers with his right thumb, and then he brought the teeth of the guard to the nape of the blond’s neck.

“Don’t make me look dumb,” Naruto joked.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” Gaara breathed.

He tilted Naruto’s gaze forward, then ran the clippers up the back of his head in one smooth stripe. Hair beaded up over his wrist, and when he pulled the clippers back, he flicked them to shake off the remaining tufts. He repeated the action again and again, trimming up the hair on the back of Naruto’s skull.

Surprisingly, Naruto didn’t fidget or flinch. Gaara hadn’t been expecting him to stay still—Naruto almost never could—but he was surprisingly relaxed as Gaara guided the shears over his skull. When Gaara got to his ears, he moved his hand that had been holding Naruto’s head so that he could keep them out of the way of the razor. Naruto apparently had the same idea at the same time, and their fingers ended up overlapping over the fold of his ear. Gaara felt a strange kind of intimacy in the moment. All the muscles in his core released, and he let himself imagine all the soft kisses he would place in the freshly cut locks.

After he finished the sides, he turned Naruto to face him, and then he tackled the top and the front. Naruto’s eyes were closed, not tight like he was worried about getting hair in them, but gently as if he were resting. When loose strands did float down the slope of his forehead, his nose twitched, but he refrained from touching his face unless he had to wipe his nose.

Gaara stole glances at his boyfriend’s face, and he noticed that his complexion still had the same grayish tone to it as yesterday, except the skin around his nose which was a raw red, dry, and cracked. The image of food pills floated through his thoughts, but he rejected the idea without delay. Judging by how Naruto looked, he already felt miserable enough. There was no need to subject him to the torture of those dubious health supplements.

The Kazekage had to remind himself that there wasn’t really anything he could do about a cold. It had to run its course, just as Sakura had said. And despite the discomfort that it might cause, it wasn’t life-threatening.

He kept his breathing steady. He wasn’t going to let worry get the best of him today. It was just a minor sickness that would be over soon. They’d both been through so much worse. This was the least they could handle.

Gaara gave Naruto’s hair another once over with the clippers, making sure that everything was even and blended together smoothly. When he was satisfied with the outcome, he turned them off and swapped them out for a pair of scissors. Their sharpness seemed questionable, but Gaara only needed them to spot check certain areas that were difficult for the shears to fully reach. He brushed his hand through Naruto’s freshly buzzed fuzz, sweeping away any excess hair so he could get a clearer picture of what areas needed extra help. Naruto smiled as Gaara dragged his fingers over his scalp.

He worked mostly at Naruto’s hairline, making sure the edges were neat but not too distinct. Then he thinned out some of the sections of hair, reducing the bulk in the sides and the back. He ran a comb through Naruto’s hair, pushing and pulling it this way and that, dislodging more cut hair, and making sure everything was even and presentable. Finally, he took a damp washcloth and began brushing off the clumps of hair that had stuck to Naruto’s skin.

When Gaara’s fingers trailed across the cords in his neck, he could feel his partner’s heartbeat. The sparse wisps of excess chakra that leaked from their pores mixed together in unhurried twirls. After setting down the washcloth, he tapped a fingertip against the top of Naruto’s spine, captivated at how easily their auras melted into one another.

“Done already?” Naruto asked. His voice sounded thicker now, heavy with drowsiness and mucus.

It hadn’t exactly been quick, which left Gaara to assume that Naruto had actually nodded off at some point. Only Naruto, Gaara thought, could manage to fall asleep with someone wielding a razor over his head.

“Yes,” Gaara confirmed, “Take a look. Let me know what you think. If there’s anything you want me to change...”

He trailed off as Naruto gripped his forearm and used that leverage to haul himself up. He shuffled to the mirror, and Gaara held his breath. He thought he’d done a good enough job, but maybe there was something that he hadn’t noticed.

“Damn! I look good,” Naruto commented, turning his head from side to side. His eyes held a bit more life as he admired himself in the mirror. “Is this your backup plan in case you get sick of being Kazekage?”

The praise was unexpected in the sense that Gaara had never cut someone’s hair besides his own. Gaara rubbed at his face, which tickled from the compliment. He stepped closer, into the range of Naruto’s glow, and stared at their reflection together.

“No,” Gaara responded, a small smile finding its way on his face, “Just making you look more like Hokage.”

The comparison never failed to hit Naruto straight in the heart. He turned wrapped his arms around Gaara, tugging him closer and kissing him on the forehead. His diligent mouth slowly made its way down to Gaara’s. Many more kisses ensued, fulfilling Gaara’s daydreaming from earlier.

~~

Naruto insisted on washing his hair to make sure all the stray pieces would come out, and Gaara insisted on helping him since he was obviously too ill and weak to be doing something so strenuous, and that was how they both ended up freshly washed, skin hot to the touch, and sleepy.

Gaara still hadn’t unpacked since he’d arrived at the Naruto’s apartment last night, so he had borrowed some of Naruto’s clothes after they were finished in the bathroom. The clothes were loose and not his style, but it was because of those things that he loved wearing them. Laying in Naruto’s bed, covered in his clothes and blankets, and _Naruto_ for that matter, was bliss. He listened to the sound of Naruto’s sticky breathing, which would inevitably turn to snores, and could feel himself drifting, warm and lazy like the steam over a freshly brewed cup of tea.

Thoughts and sensations passed through him like light through glass. His own breathing was deep and slow, and chakra swirled through his body in silky rivulets. The slight pressure of Naruto’s weight against him assured him of his safety and grounded him in this meditative state. Each of the muscles in his neck and shoulders unwound, one-by-one, until his face sunk deep into the pillows and sheets and each breath he took was filled with the scent of crushed leaves, mud, and sunshine.

Sleeping was always difficult for him, but it came on easier with Naruto by his side. The moments right before he completely slipped under happened to be his favorite though. He never experienced them on his own.

At some point during his slow descent, Naruto’s whole body jerked. Naruto didn’t always wake up when this happened, but Gaara always made sure to check.

“You okay?” he murmured.

He smoothed a hand down Naruto’s back. The jinchuuriki’s muscles were lax, his chakra was calm. Gaara sensed no danger around them, and he let himself ignore the tug of surfacing to consciousness.

“So many bees,” Naruto mumbled, his voice draped in sleep, “Stinging...flowers...”

A nightmare, then. And not a serious one.

Gaara continued pulling his fingers across Naruto’s back, up and down, soothing. “It’s okay...Just a dream...”

Naruto mumbled something unintelligible and snuggled in closer. “Mmm, Gaara...”

It wasn’t long before he was softly snoring again. Sleep loomed ever closer for the Kazekage. His hand, too heavy to move at this point, came to rest on Naruto’s hip. His fingers attempted to trace circles on the cotton shirt that covered Naruto’s heated skin.

When sleep finally came, it was like biting into an overripe peach. A burst of sweetness that ran down his mouth and dripped from his chin, engulfing him with its cloying yet comforting flavor.

~~

Later, Gaara’s sense of responsibility took over and dragged him out of bed. It was difficult leaving Naruto’s side, physically because the shinobi was clinging to him like a frightened octopus, and mentally because each of Naruto’s whimpers as he pulled away felt like a nail driving him into the mattress. But, there were too many things that needed to be done and five years of experience as Kazekage to remind him of the dangers of procrastination.

He started by unpacking his things. It always brought a certain heat to his face whenever he placed his folded clothes in the dresser next to Naruto’s. There was a time in his life when he could have never pictured himself as Kazekage. The idea that he and Naruto might actually live together one day seemed like a faraway dream, but Gaara knew better than to abandon hope just because the situation was unlikely now.

He sent a sand clone to get ingredients for dinner, as they had slept through lunch. Gaara wanted something hearty that would bolster Naruto’s strength as he recovered, so he decided on making chankonabe. Another part of him also wished that the soup would strengthen his own immune system as well. He couldn’t bring himself to stomach another of Sakura’s food pills. Just seeing the basket as he made his way into the kitchen after unpacking sent foreboding chills down his spine.

He began the ever present task of tidying up Naruto’s apartment. To Naruto’s credit, Gaara had seen it in much worse states, and he was sick after all. There was something about the task that Gaara found rewarding anyway. He didn’t care much for cleaning when he was back home in Suna, but the way that Naruto left things laying around could tell a story. Gaara could see how he’d left a pot of something unattended, then rushed to take it off the burner as it boiled over. He followed the dried crust to where Naruto had spilled it into the sink, next to which were empty instant ramen cups and disposable chopsticks which he’d used once he ran out of clean eating implements. There were pajama pants and a spare kunai pouch with a broken strap strewn across the floor, pointing to the direction of the apartment’s entrance. Gaara imagined Naruto had been running late, as always, when he suddenly had to replace the holster on his hip.

It was placating to picture what Naruto was up to while they were apart. Even though they tried to see each other as much as possible, Gaara always missed him so much in the interim.

By the time the sand clone returned, Gaara had finished making the kitchen a sanitary cooking space and had moved on to sterilizing the bathroom. He directed the clone to put the groceries away and then sent it back out to check if Naruto had any mail. When it returned the second time, he took the letters and dispelled the jutsu. He placed the scrolls and envelopes on Naruto’s nightstand and smiled at his still sleeping boyfriend.

Naruto’s mouth was half open, and he was drooling on his pillow. His eyes were crusty, and his nose was running. Only one of his legs was under the blanket, which had somehow been rotated ninety degrees and was mostly hanging off the bed. Overall, he was a mess, and Gaara loved every bit of him.

He straightened the blankets and then brought a glass of water and set it on Naruto’s nightstand before returning to the kitchen to start dinner.

Just as Gaara turned down the burner to let the soup simmer, he heard a loud and rather forceful knocking at the door, accompanied by frustrated yelling.

“Naruto! If you don’t come out here right now, I’m coming in! I may put up with your lateness, but if you think you can get away with skipping your lessons, you’ve got another thing coming! You hear me?!”

Gaara opened the door to a red-faced and slightly out of breath Umino Iruka.

_Right_ , Gaara remembered, _Naruto was still taking night classes at the Academy. He must have forgotten to notify his tutor._

“Iruka-sensei,” he greeted the flustered man in an even tone.

At the sight of Gaara, the agitation on Iruka’s face melted away, leaving a pale sheepishness in its place. He bowed immediately, his cheeks fading from red to pink.

“Kazekage-sama, I am so sorry! Please excuse my rudeness, I did not mean to interrupt.” The pitch of his voice was higher and his tone much more formal than it had been mere seconds ago.

Gaara could feel embarrassment radiating off the man, and then he looked down and remembered he was still wearing Naruto’s old sleep clothes. He could guess at what Iruka thought he was interrupting.

“No need to apologize,” Gaara replied, equally as formal, “It’s my fault. Naruto is ill, and I should have thought to inform you ahead of time.”

They continued to trade polite apologies until Naruto poked his head out of his bedroom.

“What smells so good—? Oh, hey Iruka-sensei! What’re you doing—ah shit!”

Iruka looked past Gaara at his student and frowned like a disappointed father.

“I’m sorry! I swear I didn’t forget! I even did my assignment from last time...mostly...” he trailed off into a fit of coughing, the veracity of which was questionable.

His teacher stood with his hands on his hips staring at Naruto with a withering look. Even Gaara felt intimidated by the man’s intense scrutiny. It was like he was looking right into Naruto’s thoughts, ready to call him out if he tried to make up an excuse.

Naruto chuckled nervously and wiped the back of his hand under his nose.

“It’s alright. Gaara-sama was kind enough to inform me that you’re unwell. Perhaps next time _you_ would be so thoughtful as to let me know ahead of time,” Iruka scolded him.

Naruto leaned against the doorway to his bedroom and closed his eyes for several seconds, either miffed at being chastised or just tired. Gaara wanted to go over and support him, but Iruka’s presence made him hesitate. He scanned the teacher’s expression again and noticed that it had considerably softened.

“Well, I can see that you really do need your rest. I’m sorry for imposing. I’ll be on my way now.”

“Iruka-sensei, wait! Stay for dinner! Gaara’s great at cooking!” Naruto half-shouted, before the teacher had even moved.

“No, I shouldn’t cause you any more trouble than I already have.”

“Oh, come off it. I cause you trouble all the time, even today.”

“I really shouldn’t...”

Naruto stepped out of the doorway, walking towards his sensei with as much purpose as he could muster. “Of course you can. If our lesson is canceled, then you obviously have time.”

“Well...”

“I insist,” Gaara joined in.

Now cornered by the Kazekage and the future Hokage, and having already declined the invitation a polite number of times, Iruka had no other option than to accept. Gaara set an extra place at the table, and Naruto, despite probably having a sore throat, managed to badger his sensei about all kinds of things. By the time they were all seated at the table, Iruka’s eyebrow was twitching.

“Naruto, if you had this much energy, surely you could have managed your homework.”

Naruto went silent. He rolled a chopstick across the table between his two hands.

“Anyway, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Gaara-sama, and I’d like to know what he’s been up to.”

“Just Gaara is fine,” Gaara said distractedly. He kept one eye on the clock so that he would know when the soup was ready.

“Gaara-s-san. How have you been? How are things in Suna?”

Across the table, Naruto groaned in embarrassment and plopped his head on the table, folding his arms in front of his face.

Gaara couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t know Iruka that well, but they had spent some time getting to know each other over the past two years considering that Naruto considered him as a sort of father-figure. Iruka too, by his own volition, had been interested in learning more about his surrogate son’s partner. From what Gaara understood about normal parent-child relationships, Iruka appeared to fit the description: supportive and caring, sometimes strict but sometimes indulgent. He also seemed to be well equipped to embarrass Naruto in front of his boyfriend.

That being said, he was always speaking very formally around Gaara, as if he wasn’t sure that the Kazekage would accept _him._ ‘Gaara-san’ was usually about as casual as he got with his speech, and much like Sakura, he was often giving Naruto trouble about cleaning up before his loved ones visited and things like that. Gaara wasn’t sure if Iruka only said these things to try and win his favor, but if that were the case, it was unnecessary. Iruka was one of the most influential, trusted, and loved people in Naruto’s life, and for that alone, Gaara was grateful.

“Not much to report of interest. There was a rainstorm which caused some flooding, but repairs are already underway. Not too much damage was done.”

The soup was finally ready, and Gaara got up from the table to ladle it into their bowls. He kept up the light conversation as he served dinner, though it died down once they were all eating.

“This is delicious! You’re the best, Gaara!”

“Yes, this is very good. Thank you, Gaara-san.”

Gaara looked around the table. Naruto was stuffing his face, as usual, vegetables flying, broth going everywhere. Iruka was more reserved but still devouring his portion with loud slurps. As Gaara dipped his chopsticks into his own bowl, he couldn’t help but think that _this_ was what it was like to be part of a family.

Sure, he shared meals with Kankuro and Temari often, but they were all the children of the Fourth Kazekage. Family dinners weren’t a thing. Being a _family_ wasn’t a thing. As they grew up, they had learned to be _siblings_ , but there was just something else...

Maybe Gaara was just splitting hairs, but this felt different. He was reminded of the dream he’d had under the Infinite Tsukuyomi, where he and his siblings were crowded around their parents, and Gaara was telling his father about his day. Yashamaru had been there too, offering muted laughter as he listened from the other room. And then Naruto had showed up…

This moment felt like a chance to cultivate what he’d been yearning for in that dream. He thought about what it would be like if Temari and Kankuro were at the table now, all of them eating dinner together, and he was surprised to find that his eyes began to mist over.

He wasn’t sad, though whatever feeling was causing his vision to blur did feel sensitive. He didn’t want Naruto or Iruka to get the wrong idea, so he held his bowl of chankonabe close to his face and let the warm steam condense on his skin. Even knowing that the two of them would be concerned for him made his throat begin to ache.

He was just so _lucky_ and so _thankful_ to have these people in his life. To have formed these bonds. To matter to others and to have others that mattered to him. These were the things that filled his heart to the brim.

He gulped at the soup, welcoming its soothing heat. Years ago, he had just only begun to understand the meaning of friendship, and now…

Now he had a _family_.

~~

A few hours later, after Iruka had left, Gaara and Naruto were lying in bed ready for sleep but not quite there yet. Gaara had his head on the Leaf ninja’s chest, and he was listening to the strong and steady heartbeat that mesmerized Gaara with its gentle melody. Naruto had one hand resting on Gaara’s shoulder blade, the other was idly picking through his hair, twisting and turning locks of red every which way.

“Gaara...”

Gaara tilted his head to Naruto’s half lidded stare. His eyes were fuzzy with drowsiness, the blue of his irises overwhelmed by wide round pupils. He held Gaara’s gaze for a long moment, as if transferring something delicate between them, too fragile for words.

“Mmh?”

“Ahh...nothing. I just like saying your name.”

As Naruto spoke, his voice buzzed through his chest and tickled Gaara’s ear, and Gaara pressed against him closer. Naruto’s voice against the backdrop of his heartbeat was music—a rhythm and vocals that enchanted Gaara with its melody.

“I like saying it because then I know you’re here with me, and I love when you’re here with me because I love you, and I want to tell you that every day and make sure that you know.”

“I love you,” Gaara echoed instinctively, because he always wanted his reciprocation to be known. It wasn’t that he only ever made the statement in response, but saying it as an immediate reply acted as insurance. He wasn’t nearly as expressive with his emotions as Naruto was, so he wanted to make sure that his feelings came across clear to the other—even if his feelings had only grown stronger and more secure over the years.

Sighing with contentment, Gaara listened to several more measures of jinchuuriki’s heartbeat as he let the words fully soak in. He was so warm and comfortable wrapped in Naruto’s arms—in his love.

“I think you do tell me that every day, when we are together,” Gaara mused. He let his eyes wander from Naruto’s for a moment to trace along his lashes, the shadows that his lashes cast on his cheeks, the shadows dappled over his whisker marks…

His own heart throbbed in his chest, heavy and enamored.

Naruto’s nose crinkled, and his lips pressed together in a tiny embarrassed smile. “You know, I say it every day, even when you’re not here. Just to the empty space. Like, ‘Hey, Gaara, just going for a run, love you,’ or ‘Damn, I didn’t pack enough warm clothes for this mission in Snow Country, and now I’m freezing. Hope you’re warm in the desert, if not, here’s some extra love to heat you up.’”

Gaara was speechless. He delivered a kiss to Naruto’s chest, quickly, so as not to burn his lover with his steaming face.

_Love. Love. Love._

His skin was steeped with it. His tattoo-scar was pulsing, more love gushing from it with each squeeze.

How many times had he done the same thing? Often there were times when he was about his day as Kazekage, reading reports, assigning missions, and allocating village funds when suddenly his mind would drift untethered to Konoha, and he would find himself wholly preoccupied with thoughts of a certain blond loudmouth.

“Anyway,” Naruto was keen to change the subject, “Sorry for being sick. It kinda takes away from our time together...”

“No,” Gaara objected, “Any time I get to spend with you...is precious to me. There’s no need to apologize.”

As Naruto considered this, his hand brushed over Gaara’s cheek, tilting his chin so that their eyes were locked again. Gaara was hit with the impulse to inch up and mold their lips together. Instead he settled for turning his head and kissing the palm of Naruto’s hand.

“Ah, I guess you’re right. We did have a pretty good day, didn’t we?” He traced a fingertip across the outline of Gaara’s mouth, mapping out territory he already knew so well. When he was done, he tapped Gaara’s nose playfully. “Except for when Iruka-sensei gave me more homework! I can’t believe him. I didn’t even finish my last assignment yet, so how does he expect me to do this one?”

Gaara smiled. “He’s not going easy on you because he knows how smart you are.”

For a while, the room was silent except for Naruto’s heavily congested breathing. Outside the window, the streets of Konoha were just as tranquil. Not even wind or the barking of a stray dog were audible.

Gaara nuzzled his face against Naruto’s chest and snuggled their bodies even closer together. He assumed Naruto had finally succumbed to sleep, and he was prepared to join him shortly. He was just toeing the line between this world and dreamland when he heard the faintest question.

“Do you really think I’m smart?”

Awake and asleep were blending together. Gaara held his chosen in his arms, and truth rose from his throat.

“Of course. Because you are.”

A hug and a kiss and a blanket of gratitude ushered him the last few steps needed to doze off.

And some day, they would have _every_ day and _every_ night to spend together, safe in the radiance of the other’s love.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write this since December because I was working on 'Faith to Let Go' at the time, and I had a cold. Ironically it worked out that this is coming out at an appropriate time (what with Corona virus being topical right now). You can't plan these things, lol.
> 
> I also didn't plan for this to be so long and sappy, but here we are.
> 
> Anyway, the next fic I'm working on is Karin/Sakura. Will I write more Gaara/Naruto? We'll just have to wait and see what the plot bunnies have in store...


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